In Between the Lines
by AriannaMalfoy
Summary: Just some gapfillers that could, hypothetically, be canonical.  Mostly focus on Snape, Lucius, and Sirius. Spoilers for HP7. Nonslash
1. Tension

_Disclaimer – I think we all know that neither the characters nor the places mentioned are mine. Not, of course, that I would want Azkaban in the first place, although Malfoy Manor would be nice…._

* * *

He left Draco at the Manor, allowing Narcissa to patch up his wounds before apparating away. He had perhaps an hour before they would be looking for him, before his face would replace Bellatrix's as Number One on the Ministry's wanted list. Everything would have to go smoothly; there was no room for error. 

He appeared just outside the apparition boundary at Azkaban. He chafed at the necessity of the walk up to the fortress, feeling time slipping through his fingers even as he passed through Azkaban's security procedures. He handed the warden the forged release papers and waited, on edge, as the pig-like man read the papers and examined the signature. This was taking too long; either the man was illiterate or he was suspicious, and Snape was not willing to take chances, not with this. He tensed, readying himself to perform the Imperius curse on the warden, when the man looked up with a grunt.

"Tenth floor, cell number 448," he rumbled at last. Snape gave a curt nod; he was ten minutes behind schedule thanks to this imbecile and the urge to hex the porcine lump was overpowering. He could afford to do no such thing, however, and so he continued, making his way up the stone steps toward the tenth level.

Cell 448. The bastards _would_ put him in the high-security wing, Severus reflected sourly, finally coming to the tenth floor, breathing heavily from the climb. He had taken the steps two at a time once he was sure he was out of the warden's hearing; it would not do to seem rushed, even if in reality he felt as if the Wild Hunt were loose on his heels. 445, 446, 447… He stopped outside Lucius's cell.

"Lucius," he called in a harsh whisper. "Lucius!"

There was a shifting noise inside the cell. Light glinted briefly off of blond hair and then he heard a voice from within.

"Severus?" The shadows shifted and Lucius Malfoy became visible in the half-light from the torches.

Severus hissed between his teeth as he regarded his friend's condition. Lucius was ragged, filthy, and horribly thin. His hair hung in matted clumps around his gaunt face; grey eyes stared in disbelief from behind the bars of the cell.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, throwing a nervous glance down the hallway. If the other prisoners knew he'd had news from the outside, they'd hound him for it and then the guards would beat him black and blue for causing a disruption. Somehow though, he didn't think Severus cared about that; the younger man's eyes were as hollow and haunted as Lucius's own and his skin was, if possible, more pale. For a brief moment Lucius entertained the thought that Severus might have become a vampire, but there was no trace of the telltale signs about him.

"You've done something foolish, haven't you?" Lucius asked. He had seen Severus like this only once before, and that had been… well, a very long time ago.

"That depends on your definition of foolish," Snape replied enigmatically. "Can you walk?" Lucius nodded slowly, watching his friend suspiciously.

"Good," Snape said shortly. A creak of metal sounded in the corridor; the door of Lucius's cell swung open and he winced as the torchlight hit his eyes. Then he stared at Severus.

"Your family is in danger and I can't protect them anymore. Are you coming or not?" Severus asked harshly.

* * *

_That's the end of that one; the rest, as they say, is history, or at least it's Harry Potter canon as of HP 7. And now - _Imperio! - _You will review. You want to review. Just review, and you can go back to surfing fanfic. _


	2. Nightmares

_Ok, I'm back. The usual disclaimer applies, I do not own Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, or Severus Snape, although I can wish. This little piece takes place between books four and five when the Order first moves into _ _Grimmauld Place__. Sirius has a few unresolved issues and Snape reluctantly steps in in his usual snarky fashion. _

* * *

The first night he heard the screaming, Remus thought someone was being murdered. He was jolted awake by the sound of a man in anguish, and for a moment he could not place the sound. He was on his feet and moving the second he realized its source and he reached Sirius's room just in time to see Severus Snape receive a split lip from Sirius's flailing fist. 

"Black, for Merlin's sake – I am not a dementor you witless cur!" Snape barked. At this, Sirius's eyes snapped open; he seemed disoriented for a moment before his eyes locked on Snape.

"I take it I was screaming," he said tiredly. Snape's lips thinned.

"You were. Kindly raise a silencing charm next time, Black; your werewolf friend may be able to stand your baying at the moon but I for one do not wish to hear it." He scowled and swept out the door before Sirius could reply, leaving Remus to speak to his friend alone.

"Will you be alright?" he asked. Sirius nodded wearily; he stood up slowly, grimacing in pain as his muscles protested the movement.

"I'll just go down to the kitchen; it's only an hour till dawn," he said. Remus frowned.

"Sirius…" he said, concern in his voice.

"I don't have those all that often anymore," Sirius said sharply. "I'll be fine, Remus." Remus nodded reluctantly.

For the next few weeks, there were no incidents, either because Sirius did not dream about Azkaban or because he had sound-proofed his room; Remus hoped that it was the former.

Whichever had been the case, however, it did not last. The second time, Remus could hear the bed-springs creaking long before the screaming started. He made his way into Sirius's bedroom, Snape on his heels, only to see his friend thrashing back and forth in the bed, moaning softly.

"No – I didn't – Remus _please_ – NO!!!!" Remus, his heart constricting painfully, had put a hand on Sirius's shoulder, attempting to wake the other man; however, to Sirius, the hand belonged to a Dementor which was slowly but surely drawing him closer to perform the Kiss. Remus just barely moved in time to avoid being punched in the eye; nevertheless, he kept his hold on his friend, shaking him firmly.

"Sirius – Padfoot, it's alright, it's just a dream – Padfoot, wake up!" This last seemed to shake Sirius out of the nightmare; he looked at Remus for a brief moment with eyes that were frighteningly blank before shaking his head wildly. He stared at the other wizard, clearly confused.

"Moony?" he asked. "What are you doing – hold on – where am I?"

"You're home, Padfoot, in London. Remember?" Sirius's eyes darted around the room and then, with a shuddering breath, he nodded. Remus did not ask where his friend had thought that he was; there was no need.

"Merlin, Remus, I thought…." He trailed off, but this time there were no shutters behind his eyes; Remus could see the pain and above all else the loneliness that was hiding there and for a moment his stomach twisted. That he had abandoned Sirius to this…

"Thought what?" he asked quietly. There was a brief hesitation and then, to his surprise, Sirius answered.

"That I would never see the sun again, or the stars, or… anyone I cared about. That I would spend the rest of my life alone and… and _freezing_…." He looked up bleakly, and his eyes were haunted as even Remus had never seen them before. "Hell is cold, Remus," he said grimly, hugging his knees against his chest.

Snape stared at his old nemesis for a moment and then, reluctantly and very, very slowly, pulled a vial of potion from one of his pockets.

"Take this," he said gruffly, holding the vial out to Sirius. "It will stop the nightmares for tonight at least." Sirius stared at him, the haunted look in his eyes now superceded by suspicion. He took the vial after a moment's hesitation, gave it a cautious sniff, and then downed it, all the while keeping a wary eye on Snape, who snorted derisively.

"Why?" he asked after a moment.

"I got sick of the screaming, Black," Snape sneered. He stood up and headed toward the door; Remus stayed a moment longer; there was a murmured discussion and then, reassured that Sirius was once again asleep, he followed the irritable Potions master into the hall.

"Thank you for that," Remus said quietly once the door was closed. Severus snorted.

"As I said, Lupin: I need my sleep. I can't very well rest with that racket going on in the next room."

"Thank you all the same. I don't think he'd really slept in…"

"Three weeks," Snape finished grimly. "Don't tell me you haven't heard him getting up and going to the kitchen at all hours?" Remus shook his head, a concerned look on his face. Snape shook his head and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Really, Lupin, I would have thought with your condition…." Remus gave him a pointed look and Snape shrugged.

"He cannot take the potion every night," he warned, his voice devoid of malice for once. "Taken too often it is addictive. We will have to find a more permanent solution come morning." Remus nodded, then raised one eyebrow at the realization of what Snape had said.

"We?" he questioned. Snape scowled.

"Unless you know any other Occlumensi…?" he asked. Remus stared for a second, then shook his head. Snape nodded curtly. "Tomorrow morning," he said shortly, turning away. It was only then that Remus realized that the Potions master was still dressed in his robes, not as if he had been in bed; furthermore, the robes were not wrinkled in the least, thus further discrediting the notion that the ex-Death Eater had been asleep, though it was at least two o'clock in the morning. And why, the werewolf asked himself, had Snape been carrying a vial of Dreamless Sleep potion on him? Remus frowned pensively; it appeared that Sirius was not the only one who had trouble sleeping.

* * *

_As a hint, some reviews would be nice._


	3. Throwback

Hello again! Thank you for all of the reviews; I'm glad you all like these little one-shots. If you've read or watched Stardust then you will appreciate this next one; if not, then I highly recommend it to any who are curious. If you haven't, then Septimus is a Prince of the magical Kingdom of Stormhold, which apparently doesn't have the law of primogeniture in place, meaning that all the Princes try to kill each other for the throne. Septimus is a very great deal like Snape, hence this cross-over. The beginning of this tale happens around the mid-1800s and then skips to 1959.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Not Septimus, not Snape, not either of the universes they come from. I do, however, own Maeve as much as it can be said that I own a fictional character.

* * *

Wizarding legends were seldom only tales.

She had known it all of her life; of course she had. No pureblood would deny it; they knew all too well how old wives' tales could, and often did, prove to be terribly real. The addition of magic into any story muddied the waters, blurring the line between truth and fantasy. She knew, and yet….

And yet somehow she had not expected _him_.

She had hardly noticed him at first. It was dark, and the crumpled figure lay mostly in the shadows cast by the Wall, his sable-hued cloak shielding him from immediate notice. Only his ragged breathing alerted her to his presence, and even then she did not approach him for several moments, too shocked at what she was seeing.

The Wall had been there for longer than anyone in the village could recall. The stories of its construction had died into dust along with the old magic of the world, and the guard had been reduced to a ceremonial contingent, there more to keep adventure-seekers away than to keep a true watch, but it had not always been so. Once, her grandmother had told her, the Wall had been taller; once, there had been no hole, no way to pass through to the other side. In those days there had been more of them; the town had been both a town and a garrison, the first line of defense against the _things_ that sometimes came from beyond the field. It was these tales which came to the front of Maeve's mind now, and she shivered suddenly, pulling her cloak closer around her as she realized that she was alone. The guards were sleeping; it was late, and no one took the watch seriously anymore. If the man woke…..

A groan split the silence; with a frisson of horror she realized that the man (elf?) was coming to. She half-turned, ready to run and raise the alarm… and then he opened his eyes and she could not look away.

They were dark; she would later discover that they were not only dark but black, a shade of onyx which could glitter or dull according to his mood, and she was entranced by them. Even now, shining with pain as they were, they were utterly captivating, and she found herself at his side before she knew where her feet were taking her.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Prince," he managed to gasp out. "Septimus."

She wavered for a moment and then, in one split second, her decision was made.

"Maeve Carrow," she said by way of introduction. "Come, let's get you inside."

* * *

There were rules to their strange courtship, and they both understood them from the beginning. They did not ask questions; that was the first.

"How did you do that?" he asked when she healed his wounds with a flick of her wand.

"Does it matter? You're healed, aren't you?" And he was.

"What are you?" she asked once early on.

"Does it matter?" And on reflection it did not.

They did not make demands of each other either; it was another unspoken rule and one that they adhered to almost religiously.

"I'm forbidden to marry until I'm crowned King," he told her one night, regret and longing simmering in the depths of his eyes. "I'd ask now if…"

"I know," she replied softly. And she did; he was a Prince of Stormhold, and if he did not take the throne… apparently the thought of killing children was too much even for elves. When the time came, she did not even demand that he stay with her.

"My father is ill," he told her. "Soon he will be dead and I have three brothers still living. If I can…"

"I'll wait for you," she replied. They did not need to say anything further; it was understood that he would return if it was in his power to do so.

She did not realize until after he had left that she was pregnant.

* * *

It was said that the Prince line had been founded by a pureblood daughter of the Carrow family. No one could say now; it had been too long and the Carrows had not been so assiduous in their tracing of pedigrees as some other families perhaps had been. Where the name Prince had come from was a mystery; some said it came from a foreign wizard while others whispered that it came from a wandering gypsy Prince. Members of the family knew two things, however; he had been dark of coloring and he had had magic in him, for every so often the Prince line would breed a throw back. Dark hair, black eyes that glittered or dulled at whim, and powerful magic would crop up every few generations; they were always loners and seldom long-lived, for somehow they always managed to attract trouble. And sometimes, somehow, there was something – other – about them, as if they did not quite belong to this world. Eileen had thought to escape it; after all, her husband's color was dark, and she herself was no slouch magically… and then the child opened his eyes, to look at her with orbs of black, eyes that seemed to see through her.

"Severus," she sighed, knowing what was to come somehow. "His name is Severus."


End file.
